


The Crow

by Rhiannon1199



Category: Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: Canon-Typical Smut, F/M, Necromancy, Post-Canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 01:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15653376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon1199/pseuds/Rhiannon1199
Summary: As she goes foraging one autumn afternoon, Agnieszka uncovers something that was swallowed up by the Wood long ago - and was perhaps better left there.When an old enemy rises again, it falls to Polnya's wizards to protect the kingdom from destruction. Will they prevail, or will a dark sorcerer take from them everything they hold dear?





	1. The Depths of the Wood

Autumn had graced the Wood with a new sense of hurriedness, arriving in full in early October to bid the creatures to prepare for the coming winter. Wolves and bears were aplenty this time of year, but they seemed to keep away from me. Maybe they knew I was there to help, or maybe they just hadn't found me yet. Either way, the ripe season would soon be over, and the Wood would sleep. 

I had been told by more people than I cared to remember that I ought to leave the Wood for the winter, not least by Sarkan, who used it as an excuse to try and get me to stay at the half-repaired tower. Permanently. He would act as though I was half-frozen when I came in and lecture me about frostbite as he made me sit by the fire in the library, muttering about every possible illness I could contract living out in the wilderness. It was his way of saying he cared, because he couldn't really _say_ it.

The grass beneath my bare feet was soft and dewy as I wandered through flecks of dappled sunlight that pierced the forest canopy. Breathing in the crisp morning air, I scanned the ground for the ingredients of my next meal. A few nettles were still struggling on, promptly and carefully plucked at the stem and dropped into my basket, as were the mushrooms that my father had shown me were safe when I was little. I gathered a few clusters of berries and dug around through the ferns and shrubs for herbs.

Satisfied with a full basket, I turned to head back to my house under the tree when I tripped, clinging to a branch to steady myself. I frowned down at the ground, at where a piece of wood jutted out, covered in a layer of moss. Setting my basket down beside me, I crouched to brush away the growth, and shuddered as my skin touched smooth wood and metal. 

I drew my knife from my belt and jammed it into the ground around the object, pulling earth away from its edges until I could wriggle it free. Under the coating of soil, it seemed to be a tiny chest, locked shut without a key in sight. I willed it to open, but my magic was met with a barrier that sent the spell rebounding into my head, startling me enough to make me drop the chest. Knowing better than to try again, I tucked it under my arm, picked up my basket and headed home, deciding to let Sarkan look at it later.

**********

The doors of the tower opened for me at the touch of my hand when I arrived three days after finding the mysterious box in the Wood. I carried it up the spiral stairs to the library, where Sarkan was scribbling notes in a book at his desk, looking up at my entrance. He was scowling, as always, but the slight blush to his cheeks betrayed him. I grinned, plonking the chest down in front of him.

'Look what I found,' I demanded, pointing at it. He placed his quill in the inkpot and raised an eyebrow.

'A dirty box?' He observed, unimpressed.

'A dirty box with a magic lock, actually.'

Sarkan reached for the chest and ran his fingers along the edge, grimacing at the dirt it left smeared on his fingertips. 'You found this in the Wood?' I nodded, and he let out a sigh of annoyance. 'Nieshka, you can't just go rescuing old relics from the Wood, you senseless - '

'I know, I know, danger, corruption, all that stuff,' I said, prompting him to sit back and fold his arms, regarding me with disapproval. 'That's why I brought it to you instead of trying to open it a second time.' 

'I should have known better than to think this was a social visit,' he replied, and I rolled my eyes, beaming.

'Is that what we're calling it now?' I laughed, wrapping my arms around him from behind. He grumbled but covered my hands with his own anyway, letting me place a kiss on his cheek, flushing slightly red. I knew it wasn't easy for him, that he still felt guilt and punished himself for desiring someone a hundred years younger, someone he'd stolen away and treated unkindly. Time would close the divide between us eventually, I hoped, but when? My twentieth year? My hundredth? Could we withstand it that long? 

'None of that matters,' he'd try to say once when I'd plucked up the courage to speak about the awkwardness between us. 'We don't live in one year, or twenty, or a hundred, we live now.'

Sarkan leaned forward suddenly, his brow furrowed, snatching the box from where it sat on the desk. I stepped back and watched as he routed through the drawers, pulling out an old rag and rubbing the dirt away from the top of the box. A dark shape emerged from the grime, black metal against the wood - a bird, its face set with gleaming obsidian eyes. Sarkan cursed and threw the chest on the floor with a hiss, his eyes widening as though from fear.

'What's wrong?' I asked, looking between him and the box. 

'This...this...' he trailed off, shaking his head. 'Of all the things you could find in the Wood...'

'What is it?'

He sighed and crossed over to the fireplace, beckoning for me to follow, folding his hands behind his back. 'People rarely speak of it now. It was too terrible. So many people died.' He turned to face me, his lips pressed into a thin line. 'The troubadours in Kralia still sing of the time when a crow cursed the people to dance in the streets until they died of exhaustion.'

'I heard that song once,' I whispered, recalling the Midsummer festivities that were ruined one year by some fool who sang the terrible tale in front of all the children, Kasia and I included. 

'Yes, well, the real story is worse. A wizard with a talent for necromancy, the Crow, once held power in the king's court. He and the queen fell in love, and when the king discovered the affair, he had her executed, and so the exiled Crow was driven mad with a lust for vengeance. He created a curse and recorded it in his Book of Shadows, one which made people turn delirious and enter a trance-like state where they danced until they died. It spread like a plague, and the Crow probably intended for it to reach the king himself, but he was hunted down and apprehended.'

'Were you there?'

'I was a child. Alosha kept me inside, protected from the curse.' He reached out and pointed at the box, which gleamed darkly against the carpet. 'Inside that box is the Book of Shadows in which the Crow recorded all his necromantic spells. When he vanished from the dungeons, the book was sealed in that chest and sent down the Spindle on a boat, into the heart of the Wood, where we all relied on the corruption to keep it out of the wrong hands, or hoped it would be swallowed up with the river.'

The room seemed too dark now, the shadows taking on strange shapes in the corner of my eye. I backed away a few steps so I stood behind Sarkan, a sick feeling twisting in my stomach. 

'I didn't sense it,' I whispered, a lump forming in my throat. 'I feel like such a fool. I should have known when I picked it up.'

Sarkan shook his head. 'There's a barrier around it which stops magic from getting in and out of that chest. Not even I sensed it.'

'Can we destroy it?' I asked.

'Of course not. If it could be destroyed, it would have been long ago. The book itself is said to carry a powerful curse, stored full of the Crow's own magic that he poured into it over the years, so that if anyone tried to destroy the book, all the spells written in it would trigger and collapse in on themselves, causing rips in the fabric of time, dead men walking the earth, and all sorts of unknown terrors.'

'Then we have to take it back to the Wood,' I said. 'And bury it where no one will find it.'

'Nieshka,' Sarkan muttered. 'Have you told anyone else about this?'

I glanced about the library. 'Well...yes, but only my family. I showed it to them when I visited Dvernik a couple of days ago.'

Sarkan huffed. 'Oh, wonderful. Now half the valley probably knows.'

I narrowed my eyes at him. 'And how was I supposed to know what it was?' I protested. 'I don't remember you telling me about any cursed necromantic texts hidden a few miles from my house.'

'And I don't recall it ever being a good idea to live in the Wood anyway,' Sarkan hissed.

'Why not?' I demanded. 'Someone had to sort it out whilst you were flouncing around in Kralia avoiding me!'

'Yes, I was avoiding you,' he growled. 'And you keep reminding me of _why_ I wanted to.' 

Ouch. That stung. I cursed myself for my weakness as my heart sank and involuntary tears pooled in my eyes, clouding my vision. Sarkan's face softened a little with regret but I was already storming out of the library, not letting him see my quivering lip or hear the tiny sob that escaped my throat as the door slammed shut behind me and I ran down the stairs to the kitchen. The door slammed behind me and I set about making myself a cup of tea, determined to avoid Sarkan for as long as possible.


	2. At the Inn

'Nieshka,' came Sarkan's voice as he knocked at the door. 'Can I come in?'

'Obviously,' I drawled. 'It's your tower.'

I heard him huff impatiently. 'I mean do you _want_ me to come in, you impossible creature.'

'Well, that depends,' I answered. 'On whether you're going to try and be nice for once.'

The door creaked open and he stepped in warily, folding his hands together. 'I...apologise, for what I said.'

I shrugged, trying to appear like I didn't care. 'It's fine.'

'No, it isn't. I'm just worried about the consequences of finding the book, that's all.'

'Let's take it to Kralia,' I said. 'That way neither of us can be accused of trying to keep hold of it for our own purposes.' 

'Yes, and every idiot in court will have their say on the matter,' Sarkan sighed. 'Let's just hope our King and the Lord Regent have more sense than their foolish dukes.' 

**********

We left the valley the next day, sending a messenger ahead to the city of what we had found and that we were bringing it to court. Together we muttered spells of quickening until both we and our horses were exhausted, and stopped at inns along the way, keeping the chest tucked under one of our arms at all times. Sarkan even insisted on keeping it in the bed with us, and was reluctant to take a hand off it for even a moment.

'You can't hold onto that thing all night,' I grumbled. 'It's not going to sprout legs and walk out, is it?'

'I won't risk anyone sneaking in here and stealing it,' Sarkan replied. 'Who knows where the Crow and his minions are? He could have eyes everywhere, looking out for the book, following us - '

'You're being paranoid,' I murmured. 'The door is locked, and anyway, the Crow is probably thousands of miles away, if he's even still alive.' He was turned away from me, but I reached for him anyway, stroking my knuckles gently against his arm. He shuddered involuntarily, and grinning to myself, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his shoulder. 'I'm sure you can let go of it for just a while,' I whispered. 

Groaning, he placed the box on the bedside table and turned over, his black eyes gleaming in the dim candlelight as they locked on mine. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him, capturing my lips, the feverish heat of his skin blissfully familiar as his hands roamed over the contours of my body. I pushed myself up and straddled him, feeling his hard length pressing between my thighs, already bare, throbbing. He pulled off my nightdress, burying his head against my breasts as they tumbled out, moaning against them and gripping my rear with both hands. 

I retreated, watching confusion and then realisation form on his face as I gripped him and took him between my lips. Sarkan threw back his head and gripped the tangles of my hair as I tasted him, my own wetness building. He pulled out of me and tilted my chin up, growling softly as I crawled back towards him, laying on my back, letting him enter me with a swift stroke. I gasped, melting into the sheets, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him closer, deeper, until he shuddered and a low moan escaped him, warmth spilling into me. 

He withdrew, skilful fingers bringing me to my own climax moments later. I leaned my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, tracing circles on his skin whilst he played with my hair. The candle died out, a wisp of smoke illuminated only by a shard of moonlight that slipped between the curtains. 

I knew what people would say about letting it happen like this. I think everyone knew, really, without ever having been told; they'd seen me dance with Sarkan when he'd come back from court, and watched me take him into the Wood to my little house, which he'd regarded with a blend of distaste and strange fondness. They'd seen us cast spells together, seen our hands entwined, and one of the older girls in Dvernik had seen us talking behind Eva's barn, our faces just inches apart as I tried to get him to tell me outright why he came back. 

My father had looked at me differently the night Sarkan came back, not with any kind of resentment or disgust as some fathers might have, but with quiet knowing. My brothers had been sure to send a few scowls in Sarkan's direction, but either he hadn't noticed or didn't care. My mother simply smiled, and pulled me aside, telling me to be wary of womanhood. And she was right to warn me, but I hadn't been wary at all. 

As if he'd read my mind, Sarkan cleared his throat. 'We need to stop.'

No need to say what. 'I know,' I sighed. There had to be a way to make it...safe. A simple brew of potent herbs, dilute poisons that would cause nothing but a touch of nausea or a mild headache, _something_.

'I don't - I wouldn't want - you shouldn't have to go through that,' he finally said, then turned over, his back to me again, tucking the Crow's book back under the sheets next to him. I listened to his breathing as it slowed to a rhythm, his chest rising and falling with sleep, and stared up into the darkness, waiting for my own rest.


	3. Kralia

Kralia was as dreary as I remembered it, the mud thick and stinking along the paths, the canals stagnant, the very air polluted by too many people and not enough trees and fields. As if living in the valley hadn't made the divide too wide to bear, living in the Wood with no one but wolves and walkers for company had made me scarcely able to tolerate the crowds and the rotten air. 

There was no relief when we arrived at the palace either, with courtiers milling about and offering me their false well-wishing. Sarkan turned to me and handed me the box before the doors of the great hall. 'You take it,' he said. 'You're the one who found it.'

I nodded, and the doors swung open. We walked along the carpet that let to Stachek's throne, and the boy offered us a warm smile. The Lord Regent beside him was a picture of calm and reason, his blue eyes gentle and wise, his hands folded neatly in his lap. 

'The messenger arrived two days ago,' said Stachek as we bowed in greeting. 'I am glad to see you safe and well.' 

The Lord Regent nodded to the box. 'Is that the book?'

'Yes,' I answered. 'It's sealed with magic.'

'Take it to the council chamber,' said the Regent. 'Kasia's holding the court in there, awaiting your arrival.' 

We followed Stachek and the Regent out of the great hall and to the same chamber that I had watched Queen Hanna emerge from amongst a flurry of courtiers. Inside, they were all waiting - nobles in stupid clothes, blabbering amongst themselves, the wizards flanking the small throne at the near end of the room along with Kasia, who offered me a discreet wave as we entered. I reluctantly took my seat next to Solya, who greeted me with a sly grin.

'Who knew something as mundane as foraging could uncover a powerful magical artefact?' he wondered aloud, an obvious dig at my lifestyle. 'You never cease to surprise the court, Agnieszka. Perhaps you should come to Kralia more often - you could make a real name for yourself here, you know.' 

I narrowed my eyes. 'I'm sure I could, but it's full of snakes. Oh, and I'm so sorry to hear about your...rejected proposal.' 

He smiled again, but a shadow crossed his face. 'It's no matter,' he muttered as he glanced Kasia's way, and I suppressed my laugh - it clearly did matter, even if only for his own pride. 

'Silence!' called the Regent. The court fell quiet. 'We are here today to address concerns raised about an artefact found in the Wood. Agnieszka of Dvernik, come forward.'

I stood before the court, an anxious knot churning in my stomach. Sarkan offered me a small nod of encouragement as I caught his eye and presented the box to Stachek and the Regent, the latter of whom examined it in his own hands. 

'It is sealed by magic, you say?' the Regent asked. 

'My lord,' interrupted Alosha. 'That box was sealed by myself and the Owl after the Crow's capture, and since the Owl is no longer with us, that seal can only be undone by me.'

'Does the Sword suggest that we open the box?' A duke called out, causing chatter to stir among the rest of them. 

'No,' Alosha growled. 'The opposite. As long as that box stays sealed, the Crow cannot gain access to his work.'

'And what if he were to take you as well as the book?' the Regent said.

'No torture he could put me through would persuade me to open that box,' Alosha declared. 'I have helped safeguard Polnya for generations, and I have no intention of letting anyone change that.' 

'My liege,' Solya said. 'In order to fully understand and be prepared for any attempt by the Crow to attack Polnya, we must know his workings. With all the wizards at court, why not study the piece?'

'Are you mad?!' Hissed Alosha, but the Regent held up his hand to silence her.

'Lord Falcon,' he said. 'What purpose do you suppose that would serve?'

'We can prepare counter-curses and know the mind of an enemy,' Solya answered. 'That can only bring good to the kingdom, my lord.'

'Except,' drawled Sarkan. 'That if nobody opens the box, the Crow can't use his higher workings _anyway_ , so we won't need counter-curses or to know his mind.' 

'The Crow is probably dead,' a duchess claimed. 

'How do you know?' sneered another noble. 

'No one has heard from him in a century!' another one said.

Noise rose in the room, and I clung to my seat, feeling queasy. The room was hot and humid and loud, and I felt imprisoned, like a weight was pulling me into the ground. The weight of chains, or the weight of the Wood-Queen's watchful stare as I'd crept through the Wood those times...

Kasia caught me as I stumbled and rushed me out of the room, beckoning the Willow, who followed reluctantly. Outside I tried to heave in breath, away from the stuffy room, but my lungs were craving the clean, flowing air of the forest, not the stagnation in this palace. 

'She's merely anxious,' the Willow dismissed. 'And frankly, ought to grow some spine.'

Kasia hissed a response, but I couldn't hear - there was a ringing silence resounding in my head, and my vision was blurring into a mess of grey haze and silver sparks. Eventually, the Willow went back inside, leaving me in the hallway with Kasia, who tilted up my chin gently and tried to show me how to breathe in deeply. 

I felt Kasia's hands pulling me away and I stumbled in the direction she led me, eventually being made to lay down on a soft bed with silk sheets, where I finally started to calm down. The edges of my vision became crisp and clear again, and I could see the room around me - a bedroom like all the others in the palace, with a lifeless fireplace and patterned carpet, a chair in the corner, a small wardrobe. Kasia smiled, stroking my hair away from my head.

'You're out of there now,' she said.

'Ugh,' I groaned. 'That's never happened to me before.'

Kasia shrugged. 'You get used to the noise eventually, but I didn't fare much better at first. All those voices shouting over each other, the heat, the hostility...'

A knock sounded at the door. Kasia crossed over and opened it to let Sarkan into the room, and I propped myself up on my elbows. His face was grim as stone.

'Are you alright?' He asked, and I nodded wearily. 'The fools voted to open the box. We're all required to be present to examine it, and Solya is trying to insist on starting immediately, but if you need to rest he will have to wait.'

'I can manage,' I said, letting Kasia help pull me up to sit on the edge of the bed. I slumped for a moment, then forced myself to stand. 

Sarkan offered me his arm, and sighed. 'Let's go.'


	4. The Charovnikov

Alosha was already chanting over the box when we arrived, the others gathered around, minus the Willow, staring at her as she worked. 'Felnit, nilik felfezit,' she droned, running her callused fingers along the seal until a click sounded, and it cracked open. Alosha scowled down at it, then looked around the room.

'None of you saw what I saw,' she hissed in warning. 'No one else here witnessed what the Crow did. Some of you weren't even alive. The Lord Regent has asked that I oversee all interaction with the book, and therefore no one is to attempt _any_ spell in here without my explicit permission. I have already decided what roles the rest of you will have. Only Sarkan will be casting any necromantic spells - ' Solya opened his mouth to interrupt, but Alosha held out a hand to silence him. ' _You_ will be using your sight magic to unpick the components of the working. Agnieszka and Ragostok, be ready to help halt the working at any moment.'

She reached in and pulled the book out. I had expected it to be a horror to behold, bound with human skin or embroidered with bones and teeth, but it looked not unlike Jaga's book, which sat in my pocket. Yet I could still feel the energy that emanated from it, and could easily believe that the Crow had poured his own essence into it. That magic seemed to try and leap out of the pages, and in a moment of twisted horror I wondered if the Crow had some sort of link to it, if it was a conduit for its master to search us, to feel out our own power. 

Alosha placed the book on the desk in front of Sarkan, whose face was unreadable as he flicked through the pages. I peered over his shoulder at the messy writing that danced on the page, labelled diagrams of human bodies, horrible illustrations of half-rotten corpses reanimated to do the Crow's bidding. 

'Can you handle the spells?' Alosha asked.

'Certainly,' Sarkan answered. 'Although it is a fool's errand.'

'You say that about everything,' Ragostok sighed matter-of-factly, not really a criticism - he probably wouldn't have the nerve to criticise Sarkan to his face.

'That's because letting a court full of pretentious nobles have a say on matters of magic is always a fool's errand,' Sarkan grumbled. 

'Is it safe?' I blurted, and all their eyes fell on me. 'Can it - could the Crow tell if someone was using the book? Could he somehow reach us through it?'

'I...' Alosha began, as if to dismiss it, then frowned. 'I don't know.'

'If you would let _me_ examine the spells first,' Solya said. 'I could determine whether that is a possibility.'

'And what?' Ragostok interrupted. 'If it is possible, we'll have to call this whole thing off. The last thing we need is Sarkan getting possessed by an insane evil necromancer.' 

'What we should be doing is locating a channel between the book and the Crow and destroying it,' Sarkan said. 

'The Lord Regent has spoken,' Solya argued. 'He wants the spells tested and documented before any decisions are made, and that is what we must do.'

'Then let's stop bickering and get on with it,' Sarkan huffed. He flicked to the first page and began to read aloud. ' _General rules of necromancy: the more recently dead a body is, the more actions it can perform. Older bodies lack muscles and tendons needed for complex tasks. The more bodies reanimated at one time and the longer the reanimation, the greater the strain on the necromancer_. That's obvious.'

I shuddered. 'It's written so...simply. As if anyone could cast from it.'

'I think that was the Crow's intention,' said Alosha. 'He often used to speak of training an apprentice. He would have used Sarkan or Solya if Ballo and I hadn't stopped him. By keeping the text simple, it could be taught to a child.' 

I remembered when Marek, Solya and the Queen besieged the tower, and Sarkan raised an army of dead with merely a passing comment about the ghastly nature of necromancy. He had handled that spell with ease, had known exactly what book to go for...how much of that knowledge came from the Crow, taught to Sarkan when he would have been a child?

'Here it is,' Sarkan said, pointing down at the page. 'The Dance of Death, the last entry in the book.' 

'We're not testing that one,' Alosha said.

'Why not?' demanded Solya, prompting a glare from Alosha.

'It killed thousands of people!' she hissed. 

'And it could kill thousands more, if we don't know how to stop it.'

'If we keep the book out of the Crow's hands, there will be no one to cast it, and no need for a counter-curse!'

'Sarkan's seen the spell now. Who's to say he wouldn't cast it?'

'Don't try my patience,' growled Sarkan, whirling on him. Those shadows gathered around him again, quickly closing around Solya, who took an instinctive step back. The rest of us recoiled from him too, suddenly and harshly reminded of his power. 'I am not a murderer. I won't trade someone's life for knowledge.'

'You mean like you did with those girls?' Solya said, narrowing his eyes, his jaw clenched as he resisted the urge to retreat further.

'You know nothing about that,' I intervened as a kind of rage ignited in Sarkan's eyes that I'd never seen before, like a dark, hungry fire. 'You didn't live near the Wood. You don't understand.' 

'We are wasting time,' Ragostok yawned, stroking the black point of his beard. 'The longer this takes, the higher the risks. Let's just study the wretched thing and burn it.'

'Agreed,' Alosha said. 'This is what the Crow would want - if there is a channel, then he's probably looking through it right now. Get on with it.' 

'Fine,' said Sarkan through gritted teeth. 'Someone fetch me a subject.'


	5. Maria

One hour later, two guards entered the Charovnikov, dragging a young woman with flaming red hair and piercing blue eyes between them. She spat on the floor as she was dumped in front of us, glaring up at Sarkan, the chains around her hands rattling whilst her lip trembled angrily.

'What's this?' Sarkan demanded, eyeing the girl suspiciously. 'This girl surely hasn't seen her sixteenth summer.'

'Maria Viktorov,' one of the guards grumbled.

'Ah,' Sarkan replied, tilting his head and regarding her curiously. 'Rosya's most notorious child assassin.' He turned to the guards. 'I cannot guarantee that the spell will not kill her.'

One of them shrugged. 'The Lord Regent will turn a blind eye if her death is useful. We can tell the public she killed herself.'

Suddenly the anger drained out of Maria's face, and she was just a frightened girl, clasping her hands together.

'No!' she cried desperately in Rosyan. 'Please, Lord Dragon, spare my life. They made me! They made me do it!'

'Quiet,' Sarkan snapped. 'You cut your way through three dukes, four apprentice wizards and half the royal guard to try and murder the king, and you did it without any remorse. You don't deserve my sympathy.'

For a moment I was horrified at his coldness, but then Maria's face twisted into a snarl and she tried to lunge at him, her chains holding her back. Sarkan just rolled his eyes and held out his hand for the book, which I handed to him from its place on the desk. 'Let's begin,' he said.

Solya pulled his blindfold on and that stange third eye appeared on his forehead, watching as Sarkan took up a guttural chant. I recoiled from the spell - it made the air taste of death and decay. Maria sneered at first, until her legs began to move against her own will, and her eyes went wide with fear. 

'This isn't right,' I protested, stumbling back until Alosha's hands gripped my shoulders, holding me in place.

'Don't disrupt the working or we'll all get caught in it!' she whispered harshly as Maria's limbs twitched and she screamed in horror as her body jolted around, dancing to Sarkan's chant, her chains rattling. He had closed his eyes - either to focus on the casting or to block out the sight of what he was doing. I wanted to yell at him to stop it, but was transfixed by Maria's sickening dance, her sobbing cries filling the room.

Sarkan's voice began to quieten, and as it did, Maria's movements became slower and less energetic. She was still howling and screaming when the chanting stopped and Sarkan withdrew his magic from the spell slowly, leaving her curled up and shaking on the floor.

'Satisfied?' He bit out, glaring at Solya, who was pulling the blindfold away from his eyes, his expression solemn.

'Take her back to the dungeons,' said Solya to the guards. 'Give her plenty of clean water and quiet.'

'She's a prisoner,' one grumbled. 'And a high security one at that. No special privileges.'

'Do as he says,' commanded Sarkan. 'Or you'll have the Regent to answer to.'

The guards exchanged a glance, then the other one nodded. Together they hauled Maria out of the Charovnikov. She was still crying.

'What now?' Alosha huffed.

'I'm done,' Sarkan muttered. 'I've had enough of this madness for today.'

'But the quicker we - ' Ragostok began, but Sarkan snapped his fingers, quietening him.

'No more!' he roared. 'Leave me. All of you. I want to be alone.' 

With that, he threw the book on the desk, turned on his heel and stormed out of the Charovnikov, the doors slamming like a clap of thunder behind him. By the way he said 'all of you', I guessed he wouldn't appreciate me trying to follow him, so instead I stood there awkwardly among the others, who had all been subdued to an uncharacteristic quietness.

'She was a murderer anyway,' Ragostok finally concluded. 

'Are we any less cruel?' Alosha wondered aloud, before slumping down in the desk chair, taking the book into her hands and raising an eyebrow at it before casting it back into its box, murmuring a spell of sealing. 

'I'm going to find Kasia,' I said to none of them in particular, heading for the doors and pushing them open with some difficulty, glad to be away from that dry, cold library and those scenes of torture that I feared would haunt me for a long, long time.


	6. Night

Kasia and I had found a place in the palace gardens where we could hide away from the courtiers and their games, our own responsibilities, and the ways life had changed in such a short space of time. Roses grew along the trellis that separated our bench from the rest of the gardens, a lantern glowing on the small iron table to fight of the approaching dark of the evening. 

'This bit reminds me of home,' she said. 'Just a stone bench, a lantern and some roses. Nothing pretentious, nothing grand.'

I smiled, but sighed inwardly. 'Will you ever come back to the valley?'

'Some day. It's just...I can't bear to look my mother in the eye. I know that's terrible, and I do love her dearly, Nieshka, but...well, all those years were for nothing, in the end.'

'I know.' What else could I say to her? 

'It's been three hours,' she pointed out. 'Maybe you should try and find Sarkan.' 

'He's probably in his room, wherever that is. I'd rather not disturb him.'

'Oh come on, Nieshka. He's probably worrying that you'll think less of him now.'

I snorted. 'Sarkan couldn't care less what others think of him.'

Kasia raised her eyebrows. 'I'm sure he makes an exception for you. And probably for Stachek, but mostly for you.' She gave me a gentle nudge in the ribs - having finally mastered her strength - and grinned. 'And it's a cold night to sleep in an empty bed.'

'Hey!' I cackled, and laughter flowed out of her like a song. 'So who's bed are you warming, hm? Solya's?'

'Oh, please. Solya excites me about as much as a wet weekend in Gidna. Besides, he only proposed to me for attention. He knew I'd say no.'

'Did he? He's got a high opinion of himself, you know. I suppose he has to be like that to compensate for being Polnya's second-best wizard. He probably takes credit for the fact you're alive, rather than having been executed for corruption.'

'And conveniently ignores that Queen Hanna turned out to be the crazed, vengeful host of a betrayed forest queen, and wiped out two generations of royalty.'

'Exactly.'

Kasia paused for a moment. 'Nieshka, can I ask you something?'

'Of course.'

'Are you in love with Sarkan?'

The question shouldn't have shocked me, but it did anyway as I realised that I had no idea what Sarkan and I really were to one another. 'I...well, I suppose so. If love means...feeling like you're coming home.' 

Kasia smiled. 'I like that idea.'

I wondered then if Sarkan felt anything like that. He'd certainly never told me he loved me, but I couldn't put his voice to the words if I tried to imagine it, and I had never said anything like that to him, either. It seemed almost like a pointless thing to do, to tell someone you loved them, when it was better to show them. And I knew he cared when he made me warm my hands by the fire, or when he conjured me up a cup of tea, or when he let me take most of the blankets at night.

It didn't take me long to find his room, the door knocker shaped like the head of a roaring dragon, so realistic I was reluctant to reach towards it to knock. But I did, and it thudded heavily against the door, which swung open to let me in.

I had half-expected Sarkan's chambers to be like mine - a small, unremarkable guest room, seeing as he was hardly ever here. Instead, they were even grander than Solya's, and were little less than an entire apartment. On the far end of a sitting area was a glass door that led to a balcony, where the cold glow of summoned balls of light danced, reflected in the glass. I crept over and quietly slipped out onto the balcony, the door clicking shut behind me.

'I didn't know you could juggle,' I remarked, watching him pass three balls of light between his hands, perched on the wide stone railing of the balcony, his legs outstretched.

'I couldn't until six weeks ago,' he said. 'When I found myself here with little to do.' He sighed, letting the lights fizzle out. 'Some things you master in moments, others take you one hundred and twenty-three years.'

'You're one hundred and twenty-three?'

'It's not exactly a secret that I'm an old man, is it?' There was a bitter edge to those words. He leaned his head back against the wall.

'You were barely older than me when you came to the valley.' 

'I know. I was there.' 

I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm, bracing my hands against the stone wall, looking over the city. 'Who was the girl?' I asked quietly.

'An assassin,' he answered. 'She tried to kill the king when she was eleven years old, and very nearly managed it. Rosya trains them from the day they can walk, and by the age of six they kill a man with anything from a slingshot to a mace.' 

My stomach flipped as I involuntarily imagined my little nephew with a blade in hand and hate in his eyes. 'That's horrible,' I murmured. 'Why...why didn't they execute her for it?' 

'She's only fifteen. It would be illegal to execute her before she is old enough to be trialled. But it won't be long - she turns sixteen next month. Her time is running out.' 

In a way, I felt sorry for Maria. She was a cold-hearted killer, without doubt, but what else did she know?

'I wish we could go home,' I murmured, looking down at the city below, a maze of muddy streets and lanterns and brick walls.

'So do I.'


	7. Taken

I woke up to the sound of bells chiming and Sarkan shaking me roughly by the shoulder. 'Get up! They're sounding the alarm.'

'What?' I slurred, pushing myself out of the bed with a groan and pulling my dress over my head. 'What time is it?'

'Three o'clock,' he answered. 'Hurry up.' 

I shot him a glare but pulled my boots on anyway and followed him to the great hall, where the entire court was gathering around someone in the centre - Alosha, I realised, her skin pale and sweat beading on her forehead. 

'It was him,' she croaked as we pushed through the nobles to the middle. 'Voron - the Crow. He took it.'

'The book?' said the Regent, his face draining of colour. 'Why was it not sealed?'

'I tried to seal it,' Alosha explained. 'Clearly it wasn't enough. I saw him briefly, grinning at me, the book tucked under his arm and the box left empty on my bedside table. Then he folded into shadows and disappeared.'

'This was a fool's errand if ever I saw one,' growled Sarkan. 'Alosha and I warned of this.'

'It's all very well saying that now,' Solya said. 'But we ought to focus on what is to be done now.'

'You should be dismissed from court, that's what!' hissed Alosha. 

'There's no point arguing amongst ourselves!' I intervened. 'The sooner we track down the Crow, the less damage he can do.'

'How the hell are we going to find him?!' Ragostok said. 'He could be absolutely anywhere!'

An idea popped into my head as the crowd began to roar with worried chatter and disapproving remarks about our negligence. 'How about - wait, please, be quiet - I said BE QUIET!' The noise dissipated at my yell as shocked and offended eyes stared at me. 'We need something of his.'

'Like what?' the Regent asked. 

'Preferably a lock of hair or some blood,' I said. 'But we might be able to use something else that belonged to him, something he might have touched.' I recalled using _loytalal_ to bring Kasia out of the Wood, and Marek with the ring that had belonged to his mother, leading us the heart tree that imprisoned her. 

'What do expect to do with the Crow when you find him?' Solya asked, watching me carefully. 'Do you think he'll come quietly? He is older and more powerful than any of us.'

'Then we'll have to try and work together,' I said. 

'You're asking for a miracle,' muttered Sarkan.

'She's right,' said Alosha. 'We all have our strengths.'

'What's Ragostok's again?' Sarkan drawled.

'Excuse me?' hissed Ragostok. 'I am a master craftsman of enchanted - '

'You make pretty things for princesses to wear. Do tell me how that is meant to help us fight a master necromancer.'

'I must agree with Sarkan on this occassion,' Solya added, stroking his beard thoughtfully. 'Ragostok was never particularly promising, and was admitted to the list mostly because of his relation to Alosha.'

'That's not fair,' Alosha growled, suddenly defensive. 

'This is exactly what I mean!' I snapped, then turned to Ragostok, who was red-faced, fists balled. 'Would you be able to make us each some kind of protective amulet so we're less susceptible to the Crow's magic?'

Ragostok's lips twisted into a sneer. 'Certainly. If that's _useful_.'

'Begin work immediately,' the Regent ordered. 'We haven't a moment to lose. The rest of you, return to your beds. We will debate what is to be done with the Crow in the council chamber tomorrow morning.'

The rest of them seemed glad to be sent back home, a few muttering in annoyance at having been inconvenienced by the foolishness of wizards. The five of us trudged off to the Charovnikov again, all rubbing at our eyes and yawning, clinging to consciousness. 

'This will be easier if we can locate Voron before we go after him,' Alosha said. 'With a spell of finding and a scrying mirror we should be able to find out where he's hiding.'

'And if he moves?' Ragostok huffed.

'Then we'll have to move with him. At least this way we'll have somewhere to start. Solya, you have a mirror?'

'I do,' Solya answered, producing a tiny black mirror from his pocket and presenting it to Alosha with a smile. 

'Good,' she said, placing it on the desk. 'Now we need something of Voron's.' 

The doors creaked as they were shoved open, and the Willow came striding into the room, still in her nightclothes. She was clutching something in her hand which glinted in the light - a small glass tube, some dark liquid trembling inside it as she approached.

'Here,' she said, handing the tube to Alosha, who frowned down at it.

'What's this?' she asked. 

The Willow rolled her eyes and huffed dramatically. 'It's a blood sample. From the Crow.'

'How the - '

'They're kept in case they're ever needed for future treatments,' she said, waving a dismissive hand. 

'For over a century?' said Sarkan, scowling at the Willow. 

'For as long as necessary!' she exclaimed. 'My predecessor took the sample when the Crow became ill with the cold whilst being held in the dungeons. It has been preserved in the laboratory ever since.'

Solya shrugged. 'If it can help us, who are we to question it?' 

'Ragostok, the ring,' said Alosha, and Ragostok produced a gold band set with a white stone. Alosha pulled the stopper out of the tube and whispered a spell of finding as she tipped a single drop onto the stone. The blood swirled as it sunk in, illuminating the ring with a faint violet glow. Alosha tapped it against the scrying mirror, which shimmered as we crowded around it, an image forming on its surface. A man in a cloak of black feathers and alabaster skin appeared in the mirror, his face more weathered than any other wizard's I'd seen, deep crevices gathered around his eyes and on his forehead. He had the book tucked under his arm as he trudged down a muddy street where rain was falling in sheets, plastering his hair to his face. 

'That's Varsha,' said Sarkan as we watched the Crow sneer at the people who stood dumbstruck around him. One man came forward, a pitchfork in hand, aimed at the Crow's heart. No sound came from the mirror, but we stared in horror as the Crow reached into the air and balled his fist. The man dropped the pitchfork and clutched at his chest as the Crow laughed in his face, stealing the life from him, smiling as he fell dead and twitching face down in the dirt. 

'He's going to take over the town,' I whispered. 

'There's no time to waste,' said Alosha. 'Come on. We're going to Varsha.'


	8. Confrontation

Eleven days of ceaseless travelling had left me bored, tired and longing for home more than ever. When we finally reached Varsha, the town was a mess - people were hiding inside their houses, glaring at us as we passed, parents pulling their children away from the windows and drawing the curtains shut. I could hardly blame them for being afraid of five wizards walking into their town after one had just gone on a murderous rampage around the place.

Before long, a crowd of braver folk emerged, torches lit and axes in hand, huddled behind a guard, who held up a hand to stop us.

'What business do five wizards have here?' he demanded.

'We come from the court of King Kasimir Stanislav Algirdon,' Alosha answered. 'In pursuit of a necromancer known in the common tongue as the Crow.'

'Go home,' the guard hissed. 'Leave, if you know what's good for you!'

'We're here to help. Where is he?'

'He killed the baron,' a peasant woman muttered, limping forward. I gasped at her bony limbs and scraggy yellow-grey hair beneath her cowl, at eyes that were clouded by blindness, and yet she looked right at me, almost through me. 'And he killed my boy, Yakov. So many dead...'

'He went to the baron's castle,' the guard said. 'In the centre of - '

The guard went silent, choking on his own words, staring wide-eyed at us as he twisted and trembled. I stared transfixed and sickened as his hands curled up and he opened his mouth in a silent scream, twitching.

'The castle is this way,' Sarkan hissed, beckoning us towards a narrow alley. 'Quickly!'

We tore through the streets, following Sarkan's lead, and I marvelled at how after all this time he still knew the town well enough to lead us through it. Perhaps he'd visited it since being carted off to the capital as a child, but he'd never mentioned it. How long does it take to really know someone who has lived over a century longer than you? 

I glanced back, and yelped as I saw shadows chasing us, black, wispy tendrils reaching out for our heels. The stench of decay filled the air, like the stink of the dead men piled up outside the tower when Marek had besieged us, rotting in the sun, foul liquids leaking out of their skin, flies and crows gathering to feast on them. I retched at the memory, slowing for a moment, but Alosha grabbed my arm and pulled me along until I steeled myself. 

We skidded to a halt at a crossroads to find shadows pressing in on us from every direction. 'Shit,' Alosha breathed, glancing about, looking truly afraid for the first time since I'd met her. I looked down at the cobbled path, at the grass and weeds growing between the cracks, and under my breath sang them a song of water and sunlight until vines tore up the stones and wrapped around our arms, lifting us to the rooftops, away from the Crow's spell. Beneath us, shapes moved amongst the darkness, and I shuddered as the vines dumped me onto a roof. 

'Not bad,' said Alosha, smiling as we headed for the castle, jumping from roof to roof until we could see across the curtain wall into the courtyard. Sarkan opened up an illusion and we sprang forward into the courtyard.

The dead were walking. The castle guards had been murdered and used as the Crow's undead thralls, staggering towards us with weapons pointing at our hearts and someone else looking through all their eyes, laughing. For all our efforts, the doors to the castle were sealed, and we were trapped in the courtyard with herds of corpses closing in on us. We pressed our backs to the door, all speechless, our options expired. I reached for Sarkan's hand as I realised this was it - we were going to die, torn apart by empty shells of men. Sarkan gripped my hand back, building a spell in the other, but by his face I knew that he knew it was futile; there were too many of them, and dead men don't feel pain.

I shrieked as the door behind us gave way and I fell to a cold stone floor, pulling Sarkan down with me. For a few moments I lay there, dazed from smacking my head against the ground, before I remembered what was happening and scrambled to my feet, only for the door to slam shut behind us, locking us in and the undead out. A deep chuckle sounded from somewhere in the dark hall, and lights suddenly erupted into life as we dusted ourselves off. 

'Surely you did not think I would let you die in such an unpleasant manner?' came a silky voice from the far side of the hall. The Crow was grinning beneath the hood of his feathered cloak, and flung out his arms in some grand gesture of welcome. 'Quite the opposite, my friends. You are to be my esteemed guests.'

'Enough!' cried Alosha. 'This ends now, Voron.'

'Yes, that seems appropriate, dearest Alosha,' he purred. 'I am tired of running and hiding. Which is why I have a proposal for you all.'

'We're not here to make a deal with you,' said Solya. 

The Crow tilted his head, smiling with narrowed eyes and stepping towards us, looking between Solya and Sarkan. 'Well, well, how you two have changed since I saw you last. Still at each other's necks with that damned rivalry or yours, I see.' He whirled on me, sweeping towards me unnaturally fast, and I gulped, staring him in the face. 'Ah, here she is. _Agnieszka_ ,' he hissed softly, feeling out every letter of my name as he spoke it. 'The very air around you tastes of life.' 

' _Fulmia_ ,' I whispered, sending a tremor through the earth, the cracks between the slabs of the floor widening as dust cascaded from the ceiling. The Crow grinned, more thrilled by the display than afraid. 

'I don't want to have to kill you all,' he said, stepping back from me. 'It would be such a waste. Instead, I would much rather ask you to help me take down the Algirdon dynasty and establish a new, better Polnya.'

'And what's your fanatical vision, Voron?' Alosha scoffed. 

'Wizards live for centuries,' he answered. 'Our magic, experience, wisdom and power makes us far better rulers than mere mortals, wouldn't you agree?'

'Don't be absurd,' Sarkan hissed. 'Any wizard with a crown on their head would be drunk with power. War would ravage every nation from here to the Orient.'

'And what if we could put an end to war altogether?' said the Crow. 'What if the wizards of every land could form an alliance, and govern the entire world? There would be only peace, and without kings and nobles to waste money, less poverty, less children begging on the streets, less crime.'

'It would never work,' Solya said. 'The rivalry between wizards is too great. Why share power with hundreds when you could try and take it all for yourself?'

'Then you leave me no choice,' the Crow growled. ' _Morae ros, morae tahka_!'

Sarkan hurled a ball of flame at him, but he folded away into shadows and it struck the wooden throne at the back of the hall, engulfing it in fire. The light danced on the grey walls as the ground began to creak and rip beneath us, stones prised apart by bony hands. I suppressed a shriek as a skeleton clawed its way out of the ground, lunging for us. Alosha drew her sword and swung it at the thing's neck, knocking it to the ground, but more kept coming, surrounding us. 

Thinking quickly, I whispered to the moss that hung from the castle walls, willing it to thicken and elongate into long, lacy strands that tangled the undead and dragged them back to the ground, bones clattering against the floor. They filled the hall, spreading webs to all four corners, keeping the skeletons away but trapping us in the centre of the room. 

'Come on!' yelled Alosha, cutting a path through the moss to a door on the right of where the throne still burned, dangerously close to my spellwork. We dashed down a winding staircase to a reeking dungeon full of rusted cages and torture chairs, spiked instruments and buckets of foul, decaying guts discarded on the floor. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the stench of rotting flesh. The Crow's laugh echoed off the damp walls. 

'You can't run forever, Voron,' Solya called, his voice trembling with anger and a hint of fear.

'My dear boy,' came the soft, hissing reply. 'I shan't need to. _Lonsa_.'

The cages in the shadows either side of us erupted into screeching and hands tried to grab at me, blackened, swollen fingers brushing against my arms. Behind me, Ragostok screamed as he was caught and slammed against the bars, dozens of hands pulling at him, clasped over his airways, ripping his clothes and his hair. Alosha bellowed and tried to run to him, and I was vaguely aware of someone warning her against it, frozen in place, retching as they plucked Ragostok's eye from its socket. Blood poured down his cheek as his sobs subsided to whimpering, and then to silence. Sarkan pulled me along, carefully dodging the hands, whilst Alosha was howling with the loss of one of her last relatives. 

'I hate to see you cry, Alosha,' the Crow's voice sighed. 'I did only what had to be done. And fear not - his death will not be in vain. He will make a wonderful servant.'

'You bastard!' she shrieked. 'I'll destroy you! Come here and fight me, you coward!' 

'As you wish.' He stepped out of the darkness and sent shadows lunging for us. They wrapped around Solya's neck, lifting him into the air as his limbs flailed wildly. Alosha was dragged to the floor and pinned down by the wisps of the Crow's magic whilst he cackled like a madman. 

'I tell you what,' he purred. 'I respect you all, so I will make you a deal. I'll hand over my book and leave Polnya...in exchange for the girl.' He grinned cruelly at me, and Sarkan growled, drawing fire into his hands. 

'You won't touch her,' he hissed. 

'What is this? Has this dragon been tamed?' the Crow teased. 'It's either her or the three of you, Sarkan. Make your choice.'

'Let him take me,' I croaked. 'If...if it'll stop all this, I'll go.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Sarkan snapped.

'It's me or all of Polnya!' I protested.

'She'll come to no harm by my hand,' the Crow said. 

'What do you want with her?'

'My magic is attuned to death,' he answered. 'Hers is attuned to life. What an interesting pair we would make, hm?' 

'You didn't answer my question.'

'I'll take her to my hideout,' he explained. 'She'll be my servant. But not a slave, oh no. How about...ten years?' His lips curled into an amused snarl at Sarkan's glare. 'A flash of time in the life of a wizard, as you well know.'

'I'll go,' I insisted, swallowing my fear as I approached him, half expecting him to lash out at me anyway. Instead, he simply watched, his face impossibly still. 

I stood beside him and watched as he drew the shadows back into himself, releasing Solya and Alosha. Sarkan was watching with horror and despair, speechless. I slipped my hand lower, towards my belt, plucking my dagger from its hilt. 

'A wise decision, Agnieszka,' the Crow droned. 

'Maybe not that wise,' I spat as I plunged the dagger into his lower back and he collapsed to the ground, screaming, magic streaming out of him. I drew out the dagger and stabbed him again and again, in the chest, his shoulders, his neck, frenzied with anger until Alosha pulled me off him as the walls of the castle began to cave in. 

We hurried out as shadows chased us again, the corridors closing in, dust and stones falling from the ceiling. A shard of light appeared atop a flight of stairs, quickly closing in. We sprinted harder, desperately scrambling towards escape, until at last I gulped in the cool air.

'Is he - is he dead?' Solya panted, looking back at the castle.

Sarkan frowned, and sent small jets of flame between the cracks. 'If not, he will be soon.' 

Smoke billowed up from the remains of the castle. The dead now lay in the streets, finally allowed to rest. Survivors were emerging from their homes, some brave souls picking through the corpses to watch as we dusted ourselves down. 

'Of all the ways for a legendary necromancer to die,' Solya sighed. 'He was stabbed to death by a nineteen-year-old girl.' 

I shrugged. 'Not every task needs magic.'

**********

The next morning, we counted all the dead. There were hundreds, most of them piled up and burned in mass for fear of remnants of the Crow's enchantment lurking within. We thought it best not to try and convince the townspeople that there would be no trace left - whatever made them feel at rest.

Alosha was nowhere to be found for most of the day. She had gone off to grieve for Ragostok, and Solya was checking the remains of the castle for anything sinister or dangerous. I found Sarkan in the town library, pouring over a massive, worn book.

'What's that?' I asked.

'The birth and death records,' he muttered. I drew level with him and peered over his shoulder. 

'Any luck?' 

He frowned. 'My mother was Rosyan. Pelageya Orlov, a travelling merchant's daughter. I was born out of wedlock and left here in the care of a woman called Mira Sokal, who died shortly after.'

'Oh,' I answered, unsure what else to say. 'How did you find that out?'

'Because my record says I was escorted to Kralia at the age of three to be educated by the wizards of the court,' he replied. 

'Does it say what your mother named you?'

He wrinkled his nose, closing the book. 'No.'

'Of course it does,' I laughed. 'Go on, tell me.'

'It's a stupid name. If I tell you, you'll call me it to irritate me.'

'Would I do that?' I smirked.

'Ugh, fine. It's Isaak.'

I raised my eyebrows. 'And what's wrong with that?'

He scowled. 'Do I look like an Isaak to you?'

I chuckled. 'Not really. Probably best to stick with the name you have.'

'Undoubtedly. Anyway, I think I've had just about enough of this place. Are you ready to go home?'

I smiled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. 'Home sounds good.'

END


End file.
